“I’m betting the account setup was Bertrand’s doing.” If she’d known she had money, she probably would’ve left.

  “Most likely.”

  “Why make her a member of the board, besides the advantage of a second vote he could manipulate?” She hadn’t mentioned she was on the board.

  “Don’t know.” November glanced at me. “But she’s not the first woman he’s kept around. He has a history of this. There’s a string of them before her, all young, all the same scenario, with the exception of becoming board members. They move in, work at Harrington’s, disappear off the radar financially, then he ends the relationship. Rinse and repeat.” He glanced at me. “But she’s lasted the longest. By a significant amount.”

  “How significant?”

  “Before her, he usually upgraded every year.”

  I stared at the financial records on the screen. “How did he end the other relationships?”

  November removed his hands from the keyboard and turned in his chair to face me. “He has several offshore accounts, and there are coordinating twenty-grand withdrawals that match his dating history, but a different offshore account caught my attention. Other than the opening deposit, it’s never been touched—with only seven exceptions. Every year, for the past seven years, it gets fifty grand poorer. Cash withdrawals. There’s also this.” Reaching back, November’s index finger hit his keyboard.

  Images of young women, all in dresses and heels, flashed across the screen. Blonde, brunette, redhead, short, tall. They had nothing in common except two things. Not one of them was over twenty-five, and every single one had on the same necklace Sabine was wearing.

  “The fucking cheap bastard’s recycling.”

  November nodded once in acknowledgment before spinning back to face his setup.

  “So what makes her different?” I knew what was so damn special about this woman, I felt it the second I laid eyes on her, but Bertrand didn’t. “Why has she lasted longer? Bertrand could’ve kicked her off the board. And what the fuck is that account about with seven annual withdrawals?”

  “Working on it.”

  “How solvent is he?”

  November glanced at me. “How solvent is he or how solvent is Harrington’s?”

  “Both.”

  “He’s sitting on eight figures in property and company equity, but his personal accounts barely total a quarter of a million in cash between all of them.”

  So the fuck had spread himself and Harrington’s thin. “Makes that potential ten million from a sale of the entire collection of diamonds combined with her ring much more of a motive.”

  “If the other diamonds exist.”

  “And if he could get them, depending on who has them. What about the nephew’s mother? That could be why she’s been off the grid.”

  “Possibly. I’m looking for a trail on the rest of the diamonds, but so far, there’s nothing.”

  “Keep looking.” If her brother had gotten his hands on four of them, I was betting the other seven were out there. “Going back to the fifty grand annual withdrawals from Bertrand’s offshore account, could he be purchasing one a year?”

  “Each diamond is worth ten times that, and why not buy them all at once?”

  “If the nephew’s mother has them, maybe she isn’t aware of the value, or maybe Bertrand’s blackmailing her? Fuck, maybe she’s spreading it out, who the hell knows? But it makes more sense than anything else.”

  “Possibly,” November replied noncommittally.

  “It still doesn’t explain why Bertrand would set Sabine up. He’s concerned enough about his reputation to show her off every day for some bullshit standing lunch date, so why smear her name and Harrington’s by implicating her?”

  “That’s what I meant by nothing good. I can’t find a trail to those hacks that lead back to anyone on Bertrand’s staff or any of his security or IT contractors.”

  “You’re sure DGSE isn’t behind it?”

  “They’re definitely involved. They’ve got malware on Harrington’s servers that has been there for years, but they’re not behind the breaches he’s accusing her of.”

  Fuck. “I don’t like walking into this with an unknown third party involved.” I glanced at my watch. “We’re running out of time.” The event started in less than an hour. “I need to know who the hell I’m protecting her from.” And what they’ll be coming at us with.

  November glanced at me. “Not exactly your assignment.”

  “We’re back to this bullshit again? You think I give a single fuck about what that asshole hired Trefor for?”

  “No.”

  “You mentioned it for a reason.” November didn’t waste his breath.

  “You’re in deep.”

  “I’m always in deep.” My safety wasn’t my priority. “That’s what Alpha pays me for.”

  “This is different.”

  No fucking shit. My head a goddamn playground for psychiatrists, misplaced redemption just out of reach, a woman I couldn’t get off my mind—this wasn’t just different. It was the perfect storm. Maybe, finally, I’d fucking go down with the ship. Except I wasn’t sure I wanted to go down anymore. And that wasn’t a place I could afford to dwell in, for too many reasons to count, none of which November needed to know about.

  “She’s the one in danger, she’s the one I’ll protect.” Simple fucking truth.

  November spun in his chair and, without any change in facial expression, managed to look at me like I was full of shit. “You have a moral compass now?”

  “Right.” Fuck this. “You were speaking to Maila,” I accused.

  “About?”

  Itching for a fight, but reining it in, I kept my composure. “I don’t have time for a coffee chat. You want to gossip, find Echo. You two can wax poetic about moral compasses and being deep.” Fuck November. “In less than an hour, I’m walking into a compromised event with no intel. Do your job, or don’t. I don’t give a fuck.” Pissed, I aimed for the exit as the door swung open.

  His usual smirk in place, Echo walked in.

  “Why the hell aren’t you watching the house?” I’d promised her someone would be on site.

  “Sent Blade.” Echo eyed me like I was losing my shit. Which was equivalent to stepping in it for him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Blade,” I deadpanned. That fuck was completely insane.

  “You got a problem with it? You go sit on the house.” Echo looked past me to November and tipped his chin. “You get what I need?”

  Suspicion flared my already-lit fuse. “He’s neck-deep on my assignment. What the hell do you need from him?”

  “None of your fucking business.” Echo purposely shoved past me. With a smirk, he shook his head at November. “I see he’s still got his dick in his hand over the brunette.”

  I didn’t think twice.

  Jumping Echo, I took the motherfucker down. Twenty pounds of muscle on me, the former SEAL hit the floor as I pinned his arm behind his back and slammed one knee between his shoulder blades. “What did you just say to me?” Out of my goddamn mind, I didn’t notice he wasn’t fighting back until the asshole laughed.

  Then he turned his head and grinned. “I’m gonna enjoy the fuck out of this, jarhead.”

  Echo moved.

  No regard for the arm I still had pinned, he flipped, arched and kicked himself upright.

  I lost my grip on him, and in the next second, my face was slammed into a desk.

  Game on. “You’re going to pay for that, motherfucker.”

  “Whatsa matter, grunt, don’t like getting your pretty face hit?” Grabbing the back of my shirt, he threw me against the wall. “Is that better? Your pussy ass needs a fair fight? Is that why you only step into the ring at the Annex?”

  I wasn’t a match for a six-six Navy SEAL. But I had one goddamn advantage. Rage. “Maybe I am a pussy, but my dick’s not in my hand now. What’s your excuse?” Slamming my head back into his, my elbow hit his ribs before I spun and kneed him in the balls.

  Then it was all-out war.

  He fucking threw me, my back crashed into monitors, I leveraged my fall and went for a tackle. We took out a desk, he hit the floor, I landed three strikes, he cut more. Punch after punch, equipment smashed, fists collided with cartilage, we destroyed the command center.

  I was intent on killing him, he was fucking me up for sport, and neither of us was going to give in first.

  My fist slammed into his jaw. He threw an uppercut into my already-bruised ribs. I kicked out his legs, he grabbed me in a headlock, and I twisted as we hit the floor.

  The control room’s door flew open, and Alpha yelled, “Echo!”

  “Party’s over. Night night, grunt.” Echo reared back with a right hook.

  Before his fist made contact with my face, he was yanked off me.

  Pinning both his arms behind his back, Alpha unleashed. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

  His shirt ripped, Echo winked at me. “Playing chess.”

  “Goddamn it.” Releasing Echo only to shove him back two feet, Alpha pointed at him. “You fucking know better.” His finger aim came at me. “Bertrand touched down ten minutes ago. You need to be handling your shit.” He looked between both of us. “This is coming out of your salaries.”

  “I got something,” November interjected.

  Alpha’s ire zeroed in on November, who was standing in a corner, holding a laptop with one hand while typing with the other. “Why the fuck didn’t you stop this, Rhys?”

  “Not my fight.” Still typing, November didn’t look up from his screen.

  “What did you find?” I demanded.

  Alpha leveled me with his glare. “No. You’re on fucking cleanup duty.” He turned to Echo. “You too.”

  “Can’t.” I swiped the blood dripping from my mouth with the back of my hand. “I have a party to attend. November?”

  He glanced up and surveyed the room as if seeing the destruction for the first time. “Armored transport company hired to bring in the art and babysit it tonight had a last-minute employee change in their roster this afternoon.”

  “Because?” I demanded.

  Still looking around the room, November frowned. “Stomach flu.”

  Bullshit. “Did you run background on the replacement?”

  “Yeah,” November answered, but then he didn’t elaborate as he stared at his second-favorite workstation, desk overturned, monitors on the floor.

  “November,” Alpha snapped.

  “Sam Smith, age thirty-two, no priors, no credit history, no bank account.” November looked up. “His passport is French.”

  Goddamn it.

  “Fuck.” Alpha looked at me. “Clean up, escort her to the party.” He glanced at Echo. “Create a diversion that gets Bertrand to the event early so Conlon can get to the wife. Everyone on comms. November, you’re point.” Alpha glanced at Echo, then me. “Work together and fucking focus up. Both of you,” he warned before aiming for the exit.

  I followed.

  Grinning, blood covering his teeth, Echo dropped his voice as I passed. “Pussy.”

  “Dick.”

  “See you at the party, Lover Boy.”

  Sabine

  The cell phone that I’d been glancing at every other minute silently lit up with a text.

  Are you okay, pet?

  Nerves fluttered in my stomach, and I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Joseph was not nearby. Then I typed a quick reply.

  Yes.

  The three dots appeared, and another message came in.

  That doesn’t sound very convincing.

  I elaborated.

  I am fine.

  For a whole minute, I sat there, staring at the screen, but he did not reply. Forcing myself to set the phone down, I started to tuck it into my purse when the screen lit up again.

  You’re more than fine. You’re beautiful. Did you memorize this number?

  Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly read the number twice then repeated it in my head.

  Another text came in. Darling?

  For the first time in as long as I could remember, despite the circumstances, despite my life, despite the here and now, the sides of my lips tipped north.

  I typed a reply. I memorized it.

  His reply was immediate. Good girl. Now wait three seconds and call me.

  If I was not holding the phone and staring at it, I would not have believed what I saw next.

  The texts and the number that they had come from disappeared off the screen.

  Standing up from the vanity in the master bathroom, I glanced out into the bedroom. Then I closed the bathroom door, but not all the way because I had learned seven years ago about the repercussions for closed or locked doors.

  Moving to the far corner of the bathroom by the window, I dialed the number I had memorized.

  He answered before the first ring. “Hello, pet.”

  Deeper, darker, his voice was even sexier over the phone. “Hello.”

  He chuckled. “No reprimand for calling you pet this time?”

  “No.”

  His tone turned serious. “I know Bertrand showed up a few minutes ago. How are you holding up?”

  I had not been separated from Vance for more than an hour, but it felt like a lifetime. My stomach hurt, my wrist was sore, I was hungry, tired and out of sorts, but his voice seemed to make everything better, which only scared me more.

  “I am fine.” I did not tell him that Joseph had already shown up in my room, yelled at the cook to remove my meal, then threatened me to behave at the party before storming out.

  “Right,” Vance stated flatly. “I’m going to let that lie slide because we don’t have much time, and I don’t want you to get caught on the phone. But you need to know, pet, this is going to get worse before it gets better. We haven’t found your nephew, we’re still tracking who was behind the security breaches, and I don’t know what will go down tonight. As much as I want to pull you immediately, I’m not going to take that choice away from you. Not now at least. But it bears repeating. If you’re ready to walk, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “I thought you said it would take you fifteen minutes to get here.”

  “With Bertrand on-site, it’s now ten.”

  I closed my eyes against the welling tears. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He paused a moment, then his voice deepened. “You never need to thank me for protecting you.”

  “What can I thank you for?” Because I may not know him intimately, or even on a personal level, but everything he had said to me in the foyer, it resonated. There was something about him, about us, that felt like we knew each other, like we were connected in a boundless, limitless way without beginning or end, just as if it were always there, waiting. In all my life, I had never experienced anything like it.

  I had no name for it, and I was terrified of this connection that had seemed to already grow deep roots, but I also wanted to run toward it. I wanted to grasp on and desperately hold this intangible feeling that did not make any logical sense, but was there as surely and as intimately as a part of my own body.

  Vance’s chuckle was reserved and so very seductive. “Oh, darling, how I would love to give you a thousand reasons to thank me right now. All of them sordid and inappropriate and will give me far more pleasure than you can possibly imagine, but we’ll wait for that, yes?”

  For a single heartbeat, I could not breathe as I felt both weightless and stricken by a current that tingled at every one of my nerve endings. Heat flushing my entire body, I held the phone tighter. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

  “Oh, pet.” His voice went deep and gravelly like the wet cobblestones he smelled of. “You have no idea, do you?”

  “About?”

  “How absolutely, stunningly beautiful and submissive you are.”

  The ethereal feeling of butterflies floating all over my skin evaporated. “A submissive woman is not a strong woman.”

  “Au contraire, ma chérie.” He switched back to English. “In time, I will show you exactly how wrong that statement is.”

  His French was near perfect, as if he had been speaking it his whole life, but it was also a short turn of phrase that was not uncommon. “When did you learn to speak French?”

  He chuckled again, but this time it was more playful. “I tell you I’m going to show you how gloriously submissive you are, and that’s what you ask me?”

  I hesitated as the butterflies came back. “Yes.”

  His tone turned serious again. “Is that a question or a statement, because you hesitated, love.”

  Briefing closing my eyes, I soaked up every second of this conversation. His attention to detail, to me, his mannerisms, his voice, the way I was imagining how he would be looking at me if he were here right now. And more than anything, I loved that I could hear the smile in his voice when it had been missing since we had touched down this afternoon. I knew what we were up against, but this brief reprieve with him, it was exactly the soothing balm my soul needed.

  “Statement,” I decided.

  It was his turn to briefly pause as I heard him inhale, then let it out slowly as if he were about to tell me something no one else knew.

  “My mother had twin boys, one of which was unruly and prone to getting into trouble, especially when she wasn’t around. Her solution to keep her twins out of trouble was to have them learn a foreign language.” He half laughed, then switched back to talking about himself in first person. “Countless CDs later, I was proficient enough to impress the ladies, which only spurred my commitment to attaining the perfect accent.”

  I did not know which part of his reveal to digest first. “You are a twin?”

  “I am. And before you ask, I’m the better-looking one.”